


Leap of Faith

by misura



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Erik Killmonger Lives, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 17:46:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17565122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: "You know, your old man killed mine and then kept it a secret from everyone," Erik says. "And here you are,notkilling me and also keeping it a secret from everyone. You wanna bet on how well this is going to work out for you?"





	Leap of Faith

As anyone with half a brain might have foreseen, Killmonger ( _Erik,_ T'Challa tells himself, _think of him as 'Erik'_ ) takes about as well to being imprisoned as one of W'Kabi's rhinoceroses takes to being herded back to pasture - it's a slow process, and uncomfortable for everyone involved, and in the end, T'Challa has no idea if there ever will come a day on which he'll look back on the endeavor and decide it's all been worth it.

No matter. He is king now, as his father before him, and his will has been done.

"You know, your old man killed mine and then kept it a secret from everyone," Erik says. "And here you are, _not_ killing me and also keeping it a secret from everyone. You wanna bet on how well this is going to work out for you?"

T'Challa shrugs. He wonders, sometimes, if he buries everyone else in work just so he can have this, steal a few moments every day to go see Erik. "It is not forever."

"Kind of feels like forever," Erik says, and the way he slouches is like Shuri, but different.

A good thing, probably, all things considered.

"I have not yet decided on how best to break the news of your survival." It would be more truthful to say that he has not yet been able to find a place for Erik in his vision of the new Wakanda, the Wakanda that will not stand by idly where it could save lives.

Erik gives him a look. "Well, hey, you leave the door open, I'm gone, man. No fuss. You want me to disappear, it's done. No problem."

"That is not what I want," T'Challa says.

"I'm telling you, you keep me locked up here, I'm gonna get mean," Erik says, apparently under the impression that throwing a man off a cliff, usurping his throne and attempting to kill him does not qualify as 'being mean'.

T'Challa might be willing to grant that ritual combat is ritual combat, but not to the point where he's willing to turn a blind eye to all other acts Erik has committed to bring him that far.

Of course, if Erik had been raised as befits his blood, there would have been no need for him to walk a path home, however blood-spattered. They might have been childhood friends. He might have been sitting by T'Challa's right-hand in council, a counter-balance for those voice more inclined to peace than war.

He might have befriended Nakia, joined her on her mission to bring to the rest of Africa what is so plentiful and taken for granted in Wakanda.

"Please," T'Challa says, though the word feels wrong in his mouth. "Have some patience."

"Well, hey, if you're gonna be all polite and shit," Erik says. "I mean, you beat me in the end, didn't you? Guess that means you can do to me whatever you want."

Several things occur at once. T'Challa is not so naive as to think Erik is provoking him for no reason, that Erik has not been trained in how to deal with capture and interrogation.

Not that Erik is a captive, as such, anymore than this is an interrogation.

"Your injuries are not yet healed," T'Challa says. One night spent in Shuri's lab would be enough - more than enough, in fact. It would be an unconscionable risk, though.

To risk his own life is one thing. To risk Shuri's, to risk Wakanda itself - that, he cannot do.

Even so, sooner or later, it is what he must. Erik's not wrong in comparing him to his father, hiding away the truth out of shame and guilt.

"Real smooth changing the subject there, coz," Erik says.

T'Challa forces himself to smile. He will not be his father. In return, he can only hope that Erik will not be Killmonger, who has lied and killed and cheated to return to the country that took both his father and his once-future from him. That Erik, too, will strive to be more, to be better.

"If you wish for me to release you, think on what you may do for me. For Wakanda."

"Seems to me those're two pretty different things," Erik says.

"Then you are wrong," T'Challa replies, aiming for conviction and very nearly not falling short.

"Anyway, haven't we been over this already? You want me gone, I'm gone. Poof."

T'Challa does not bother asking how long it would take Erik to return. He might not, T'Challa knows, though he cannot imagine it himself. To turn his back on Wakanda, never to set eyes on it again - what kind of life would that be?

(Easy question, easy answer: the life Erik's been leading up until now. He'd go right back to it, but purposeless, now, aimless. Killing and lying for killing and lying's sake. Better to have killed him than to release such a man back into the world.)

"I do not want you gone. What I wish is for you to stay and make amends for all the harm you have done, all the pain that your actions have caused." It's almost true. It's part of the truth, anyway. It is the truth as his father might have told it.

"Hey, you ask me, sooner or later, that W'Kabi guy would've turned on you anyway," Erik says. "I just sped things up a bit, is all. Showed you where all the rotten apples were. You should thank me."

"That will never happen." T'Challa has failed W'Kabi first. It does not lessen the crime, but it is as it is with Erik: one failure begets another. One false step to put a friend on the path to becoming an enemy.

"Already got you saying 'please', don't I? I were you, I wouldn't be so sure."

 

The truth is that T'Challa is sure about very little where Erik is concerned. He wishes he might discuss it with Nakia, with Shuri, with Mother - except that he can imagine their reactions all too well.

It is not Wakanda that owes Erik a second chance; it is T'Challa himself, a debt inherited from his father, who was king and, as king, put the good of Wakanda before the good of one fatherless boy.

"Earth to T'Challa, hello."

"I have been listening," he says, on instinct. "I am sorry, Shuri. My mind drifted."

Shuri snorts. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were in love."

"That, I might actually enjoy," T'Challa says, though his mouth feels a bit dry. He's not sure that he would call it love, precisely. It is not hatred, he knows that much.

"Oh yes. All that moping around you did after Nakia left you. Such great fun," Shuri says.

"One day, when you are older, you may understand." T'Challa grins, to show that he is teasing.

Shuri rolls her eyes. "Such great wisdom for my tender young ears, brother."

One day, some man or woman will catch Shuri's eye, and she will drive them all insane with her mooning over them. Or so T'Challa would like to imagine in this moment. He suspects the reality would both disappoint and humble him.

 

"Bodyguard," Erik says.

T'Challa cannot help himself: he laughs. "You, serve me as my bodyguard?" Picturing Okoye's expression is sobering, like a dash of cold water. "No."

"Look," Erik says, "I got a limited skill-set, all right? I mean, shit I trained for, it doesn't really lend itself too well to some boring day job, like accountant or lawyer or florist or something."

"You wish to work in a flower shop?"

Erik's expression is annoyed. T'Challa has seen Erik look murderous and furious and desperate and suicidal: annoyed is not so bad. Annoyed gives him hope. "You're not hearing me, bro."

"Someone might take you on as an apprentice. A trainee."

Erik rolls his eyes. (This, too, he does like Shuri, but different. T'Challa wonders if Erik's gestures perhaps mirror his own, the blood of their fathers showing itself in the sons.) "No thanks."

"I have been considering the matter myself," T'Challa says.

"Figured you might've," Erik says. "Anything good?"

"You will never be king." This is the most important thing. It is what will allow him to get the council to go along with this, to accept Erik for what he is: a member of the royal family, come back to them after a long exile, deserving of some amount of understanding and forgiveness for past mistakes - but not the throne. Never the throne. "Your children will never rule Wakanda, nor your children's children, or your children's children's children."

"So if I acually gave a damn about who ruled this place, that'd be the bad news," Erik says.

T'Challa wonders what might happen, were anyone to offer Erik the crown. It is hard to picture Erik turning them down and yet, looking at him, T'Challa feels that here is a man changed by his experiences, granted a clearer view of the world after defeat.

"What's the good news, then?" Erik asks.

"A chance." T'Challa licks his lips. "An opportunity. One. To sit by my side, to observe the way things are done in Wakanda. To learn. To become who your birthright destined you to be."

"Well, if it's that or get bored out of my mind here, I guess I don't have much of a choice," Erik says. "So when's the wedding going to be? Oh, and aren't you gonna say 'please' again or something? Seems like the least you could do, really."

 

"I did not ask that man to wed me," T'Challa tells Shuri.

She's wearing a traditional gown - modified to her preferences, of course. Mother has been looking at him throughout the ceremony, as if this is somehow his doing, his fault.

"Brother, I am impressed." Shuri beams. "I would never have thought you were the type to go for bad boys. I am sure the two of you will be very happy. He is probably very experienced."

T'Challa tries to pick a single part of that statement that is safe to respond to. "Not six months ago, he tried to kill you."

"Bah," Shuri says. "Nobody is perfect. Besides, given that I was also trying to kill him, it was only fair. He musn't think that this means I will welcome him in my lab, though. If he tries to get in, brother-in-law or not, I will zap him. Of course, he would have to avoid getting squashed first."

"Of course." Some things, T'Challa feels it is as well for him not to know.

"So did you say 'yes' right away? Did he do it like in the Western movies, down on one knee?"

"No," T'Challa says. Erik should be here soon: at this point, he only needs to stall.

Shuri scowls at him. ( _Like Erik,_ T'Challa catches himself thinking. But different, of course.) "Brother!"

"Princess," Erik says, looking strange in a traditional costume: both out of place and like he belongs.

Shuri sniffs, her nose in the air. "You are not even remotely good enough for my brother."

T'Challa tries to keep a straight face.

Erik chuckles. "Guess that just means I'm a lucky son of a bitch, huh? Sis?"

"Luckier than you deserve. Much, much luckier," Shuri says.

Somewhere, lost among the others of his tribe, W'Kabi is watching. T'Challa wonders what his once friend is thinking, feeling. If that bridge, too, may be mended, rebuilt. Given a chance to strengthen over time, until it may once again appear as solid as it ever was.

"So when did you know you loved my brother?" Shuri asks. "Was it when he quashed you like a bug? Was it earlier, when you tried to kill him?"

"Yes," Erik says.

T'Challa raises his hand. A king must be merciful and just both, after all, and on this day of all days, he would like to look towards the future, rather than the past. "Quiet, please. The ceremony."

(It should have been Zuri residing. Instead, it is one of his sons. It is, T'Challa tells himself, enough.)

(It has to be.)


End file.
